Stay Wild
by Sinisterhug
Summary: With her musical career behind her, Yang didn't think she had anything to live for. She'd long ago lost what was most important to her and hadn't even realized it. But there was just one last song she needed to sing.


**A/N: This was inspired by _Stay Wild_ by Little Birdy. Give it a listen.**** I'm not usually one for song based fiction, but this popped up on one of my old playlists and I had to write something. Warning, this has suicidal thoughts and adult themes.  
**

* * *

"I just can't do it anymore."

The words didn't really register in the blonde girl's brain. There was just too much floating around in there– thoughts, alcohol, and other, far worse substances. It was like she was submerged in a jello filled bathtub, but she still had enough cognizance to blurt out, "What?"

"I mean…" Blake released a deep sigh. "Look at yourself, you're so strung out that don't even care that your girlfriend is trying to tell you that she's having doubts."

"Huh? 'Bout what?"

"Damn it, Yang. Our relationship." Blake's eyes drew into a pair of sharp, pained lines. With another deep breath, she lifted her hands up tried to smooth the stress from her brow.

That pulled Yang out of her daze, if only for a moment. It was a struggle, but she managed to lift her head from the beanbag chair that was trying to swallow her whole. It was one of the three pieces of furniture in their tiny studio apartment.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"I hadn't planned on it, but you know what– yes. I am. Most rockstars have drug problems after they're famous."

"Blake, I love you."

"If you really loved me, you'd at least be mentally present for this conversation. I love you, but there are things I want from life, and if you keep this up, I'll never get them with you. I can't spend my whole life watching you slowly kill yourself."

"My band is going to hit it big soon–,"

"Yang! You aren't even listening. Unless you get better, you aren't going anywhere. I'm not going to get dragged down with you. I'm sorry."

"Blake–,"

"You're talented, but this is ruining you. You'll never be a star because the drugs don't let you shine."

* * *

But she did become a star. When she began to unleash the new found anger, rage, and depression inside of her, it was like a new power. It was fuel to the flames that let her achieve fission and burn bright. If only for awhile. Seven years. It would have been short for a real star in the sky, but it wasn't the shortest career in the industry. But just like a star, she was doomed to implode. Drugs, partying, sex– there wasn't much she didn't have.

In fact, she had too much of some things. Which was how she ended up in the hospital, rehab, and where she stood now.

"It's kind of small, isn't it? You could have rented something bigger."

Yang turned and smiled at Ruby, who was examining her new place. Or her old place– the place she had shared with Blake. "No. It's perfect. Let's get this over with."

The two of them scattered and began to dig through the boxes the movers had delivered. Yang took her time– it was mostly just for show anyway– and she watched her sister as she unpacked boxes with a smile. She was a woman now– not that teenage girl she had left behind when she moved out to strike it big.

When the drugs were finally out of her system, there was a startling clarity about how much they had robbed from her. She had missed so much of her sister's life.

Yang wasn't there when Ruby graduated college, or when she started law school, or when she got married to a rich heiress from Massachusetts she met at some fancy soiree. During her baby sister's wedding reception, she was lying on the floor of a hotel room on the other side of the country, overdosed on dust.

Yang hated herself.

"What should I do with these plates?"

"Just stack them on the counter, I'll sort them later." Yang rolled up her sleeves and began to dig into another box. "Thanks for coming out here. You didn't have to."

"I've barely seen you these last few years. I'm going to be a hotshot lawyer when I get my Bar results, who knows how much time I'll…"

Yang paused then looked at Ruby. Her little sister's mouth was slightly parted and she was staring at her arms.

The sleeves were immediately pulled back down to hide the tracks. Ruby's eyes locked onto the ground and were joined by Yang's.

"Ruby, I'm so sorry."

The clicking of soft steps didn't draw her attention up. Ruby, the young girl she couldn't get into dressy clothes if she hid cookies in them, had at some point learned to walk in heels and gotten so good at it she _never_ took them off. Between her and her wife, they had amassed a small fortune's worth of designer heels.

Soft arms wrapped around Yang. "I'm just happy you're alive and back to normal. I love you, sis."

Yang nodded. "I love you too."

Ruby peeled away with a smile and continued to unpack the boxes. They stayed quiet– Yang wasn't sure if Ruby couldn't think of anything to say or if she thought they didn't need words. There was an incident when Ruby got to close to _the box._ No, she couldn't let Ruby see _the box._ Even Yang was a little scared to look into _the box._

They had a quiet dinner, and Ruby took the bed while Yang slept comfortably on a brand new beanbag chair she had bought in a fit of nostalgia. Ruby left early the next morning. Ruby couldn't be apart from Weiss too long or she'd die, apparently. Yang could see her become irritable, tired, and the little tremors in her hands. Ruby was literally going through withdrawal, so Yang let her go. She knew how bad that could get.

Later that morning, with nothing left but her own thoughts, Yang flopped back down in the beanbag chair with _the box _resting heavily in her lap. Her eyes just fixated at the little clock on the wall. After exactly one thousand seconds, her phone buzzed, and she opened a text from Ruby. _'Made it to the plane alright, I'll miss you!'_

Yang quickly typed back, _'Goodbye.'_

She turned her phone off and tossed it across the room. With a deep sigh, she lifted the lid of _the box. _She lifted the gun from the bed of towels it was buried in. She didn't know what kind it was– she bought it on recommendation from a salesclerk she didn't bother listening too.

It felt so heavy in her hands. She spent a few moments carelessly tossing it back and forth, feeling it out. Yang hesitated for a moment, then stuck her tongue out and touched the side of the weapon. It tasted like metal; she probably could have just guessed that. What a terrible final thing to taste. Yang considered putting some chocolate syrup on the end to help.

Yang set it down and dug to the bottom when she pulled out a picture of the one thing she always wanted but lost. When the drugs were gone, and her ambition, and her life, she realized all she cared about was the woman she'd loved with all her heart. It was so hard to see that in the moment through the haze of the drugs, but in new clarity she realized that when Blake left, all of the joy in Yang's life went with her.

She should have gotten clean.

She should have quit the band.

She should have gotten a normal nine to five.

She shouldn't have let Blake leave.

Yang hadn't experienced even a glimpse of happiness since that moment when Blake broke up with her at this very spot.

She gripped the pistol in her hand. Yang knew she could never do it if she was stuck in her own head. Her eyes wandered over the apartment. All the life that used to be there was gone, even though it actually had furniture and looked like it could be lived in. It wasn't filled with the sounds of Blake flipping through a book, or her soft, restrained laughter, or her quiet, rich voice. Sometimes the girl would even stop her studying to join Yang in a sing-a-long.

The last seven years were an angry, unhappy blur, but Yang remembered every moment with Blake.

But this place was empty, there was nothing but the ghosts of her memories haunting it. Soon there would be one more.

For a brief moment, she was ready.

Then suddenly– she wasn't. It was like a burst of energy in her heart and her brain. The blank darkness was gone and there was something there, a cat-eared muse whispering warm words into her ear, flooding over her with purpose.

The gun clanked loudly when it hit the ground and she reached out and wrapped her fingers around the acoustic guitar sitting nearby. She hadn't touched one since she woke up in the hospital. It felt comfortable. When the new warmth in her fingers touched the strings a surge of electricity flowed into her. She smiled with tears in her eyes as she brought her hand down to strum a chord.

* * *

"So, Bianca, what did you learn today?"

"We learned music! They handed out– drums– and we all played and sang. It was fun!"

"That's great, honey." Blake set her daughter down onto her booster seat and pulled the seatbelt down and secured her. She tousled the little girl's blonde hair and gave a her a soft scratch behind the ears. She slid the door shut and circled around her minivan.

"Can we listen to the radio?" Bianca asked as Blake started the car.

Blake smiled a little. "Oh, all into music now, are you? Are you going to be the next big star?"

"Yes!"

A soft laughter echoed out of her throat. She only laughed earnestly with her daughter, never her husband. But Blake was happy with the life she chose. Every time she saw her daughter's big, toothy grin she knew she could deal with the loveless marriage and the bland, boring talk over dinners she had to cook. It felt worth it.

When she turned on the radio, she heard something she didn't expect.

The speakers erupted with sweet, soft guitar, and then Yang's voice began to call out to her.

She didn't usually listen to The Golden Dragons. They used to play softer, but when she left Yang and they really broke out, they were going hard and fast and loud. Not Blake's style.

A lump formed in her throat. It was sweet and soulful and the music spoke to her as it drifted out. It was beautiful. Blake glanced up into her rear-view mirror to where her daughter was looking out the window and humming along. She found herself unsure of whether to cry or laugh. Blake's fingers tightened around the steering wheel. She did her best to keep tears from welling up, but she couldn't stop them. She knew this was about her. This was _for _her. But it sounded too much like a goodbye.

She hadn't even left the parking spot yet. When she went for her phone, she fumbled with it and dropping it into the footwell.

"That was Yang Xiao Long, formerly of The Golden Dragons with her new hit single, Stay Wild. Guess she came back from that overdose strong. Too bad she claimed she was officially retired and that this was the last song she'd ever write."

A hiss shot out over the sound of commercials when Blake hit her head against the steering wheel, but she emerged with her phone. Her hands were shaking as she tried to navigate her contacts.

A ring.

A ring.

A ring.

"Hello?"

"Ruby, I need Yang's phone number."

"Huh?"

"Just give it to me!"

Ruby obliged.

A ring.

A ring.

A ring.

"Who is this?"

Blake took a deep breath when she heard Yang's voice. Then that lump in her throat that formed when the song first came on finally got the best of her. She flapped her mouth a few times, but she couldn't get anything out.

"Hello? I can hear you breathing. It's creeping me out."

Time stretched on and Blake wiped at the tears running down her cheek.

"Mommy? What's wrong?" Bianca asked, reminding Blake that she was in the parking lot of her daughter's daycare. She managed to end the call as she dropped the phone again in shock.

* * *

Yang won her staring contest with her gun yet again, tossing it onto the little end-table she had put next to her beanbag chair. Every piece of furniture added felt like she was saying 'suck it' to Blake. _'__Look at all I have now. A fortune to b__u__y an end-table. __Where I can put the gun I'm going to shoot myself with.'_

She stared at the ceiling and began to count to a thousand in her head. It was what she did all day. Count to a thousand. Pick up the gun. Count to a thousand. One thousand more seconds in this world. Put it down. She was living life a thousand seconds at a time.

At seven hundred and ninety eight, there was a knock on her door.

Yang grunted as she got out of the chair. It was only a matter of time before someone realized she was living here.

She opened the door and nearly leapt out of her socks.

Blake stared at her calmly. After a few minutes she asked, "Are you going to invite me in?"

"Yeah. Sorry. Come in."

Yang took a couple steps back and Blake stepped closer. The blonde woman couldn't help but notice that her former flame had aged very well. She looked good, even though her body was wrapped tight in a cheap, knock-off woolen peacoat and her hands dug into the pockets.

"Cold in here."

"Yeah, sorry, I'll turn on the heat. Do you want something to drink? I have water, milk, or tea."

"No alcohol?"

"Not a drop."

Blake smiled at her then took in the apartment, then laughed to herself. "It looks even smaller with furniture."

"Yeah. Just me though. Plenty of space."

"I'll have some tea."

Yang nodded and stepped into the kitchen area, which was really just a sink, a stove, and a refrigerator on the side of her living room. She was digging through her cabinet when she noticed Blake standing still next to the beanbag.

_'Shit!'_

"Uh, Blake–,"

Spinning on her heel, Blake already had the gun resting on her palms. Her brow was drawn tight and Yang could feel herself shrinking down under that familiar glare.

"The neighborhood has gone downhill. I thought it might be–,"

"Yang."

"I'm sorry."

Blake's gaze dropped onto the pistol. "You have plenty to live for, Yang. There's happiness just around the corner. You've got to stick around. You owe it to your sister for all the things you missed. You owe it to me."

Yang crossed the room to Blake and lifted the gun out of her hand. Her eyes locked in on a silver band. Yang's finger just barely grazed over it and lingered.

"Blake, you're sort of making a _hollow point._"

"Huh? Damn it Yang! Now is not the time."

After a soft chuckle at her own cleverness, Yang nodded. "Ruby told me you got married. To a nice faunus man. Sun, right?" She put the gun onto the nearest flat surface and waited for Blake to nod. "She even showed me a picture of Bianca. She's cute. You're very lucky."

"Yang–,"

"No, just listen. I'm happy for you. It's why you left. The white picket fence. The house in the suburbs. You just need one and a half more kids and you've got the dream. I– I almost got everything I'd ever wanted. It's just that everything I achieved was fleeting, and I'll never get the one thing that isn't. There isn't anything left for me anymore. So say goodbye. Mourn for me. But let me go."

Blake's lower lip drew beneath her teeth. That meant she was _very_ angry. Yang had seen it once, when she'd spent an evening doting on Ruby at a party and had forgotten to introduce her to Blake. Blake asked people who Ruby was, and thanks to the different last name, assumed Yang was cheating on her.

A hand was thrust in Yang's face, forcing her to back up. Blake slipped the ring off her finger with one quick motion, then flicked it into Yang's forehead.

"I got a divorce."

Yang's jaw dropped. "What? Why?"

"It wasn't for you, if that's what you're wondering. I love my daughter, but my marriage was never– I wasn't very happy with it. There was a part of me that knew it wasn't right. I– just had to admit it to myself. But I decided I needed to _stay wild._"

"You heard it?"

"Yes."

"I was really ready to do it, but suddenly, that song hit me like a freight train. I had to get it out there. I needed you to hear it."

"I'll admit it, I was a little worried it was for someone you met after I left. But it spoke to me anyway. I just– I had to admit to myself that I'm– I'm…"

"You can say it."

"…Human-sexual."

Yang raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what? Is– is that a thing? We don't really look that different."

"Yes it's a thing. It's mostly the smell. You haven't been watching the news much have you?"

"Sorry. I just thought you were going to say– um– you know what, I'm going to say it. I'm still in love with you."

Blake looked up at her, then leaned up and gave a soft peck on the lips before taking a step back. "We can try again. But you've got to prove to me that you're clean."

"Of course."

"I have my daughter most of the time, and if you're going to be around her, you've got to be on your best behavior. No exceptions. You don't get to meet her if you're not going to stick around for a long time."

"Yeah."

"You're going to start seeing a psychologist."

"I already have one."

"Then you're going to discuss this. And get rid of the gun."

"I don't need it now."

"And when we're in public you're wearing a dog-ear headband."

"Really?" Yang took a step back.

"No. I wanted to mess with you."

"Mhm. I love it when you're feisty." Yang grabbed Blake by the shoulders and kissed her deeply. She could feel the raven-haired woman go limp, so she shifted so her arms kept Blake from collapsing weak-kneed onto the ground.

She felt that sweet warmth well up in her heart. That little drip of energy that told her not to pull the trigger the first time. That same residual heat that kept her counting to a thousand. But now it filled her wholly and completely. She could count to infinity and it wouldn't be enough time with Blake. Yang pulled back and let her head rest in Blake's hair.

"I'm so glad you're still alive," Blake said, nestling against her neck.

"Yeah. Me too."

* * *

**A/N 2.0: Well, I hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think. Don't judge too hard though, I penned this in less than an hour. **


End file.
